Different Lives
by tir-synni
Summary: What would have happened if Sanosuke had stopped the fake Battousai? What would have happened if Kenshin was taken in by someone other than Kaoru? Like a certain fighter? SxK
1. Prologue

Title: Different Lives  
Author: tir-synni  
A/N: A little note mentioned in the beautiful RK yaoi story _He Who Chases Demons_, written by Kentaro, was the inspiration for this fic. Very simply, the note stated that there was an excellent chance Kenshin would have ended up with Sanosuke if he had met him first. This fic explores that from a blatantly biased perspective.  
Beta: (offers almond-coated pocky to Arete)  
Addy: relisprince(at)hotmail(dot)com

Prologue

Again, someone had taken up the infamous name of Battousai. Ten years after the war had ended and the legendary assassin had vanished, rumors still existed. Predators preyed upon those rumors, twisting and manipulating them to their advantage. With these rumors in their arsenal, many had attempted to claim the awesome title of Hitokiri Battousai. In the end, their inevitable defeat silenced all. As Himura Kenshin traveled throughout Japan, his slender feet traversing old paths and sometimes creating new ones, he heard many of these rumors. After a while, he grew to expect them, morbidly amused at the physical descriptions of the various imposters—all easily over six feet—and their wild, fiery, bloodthirsty behavior. With that same morbid amusement, he mentally compared those descriptions to the truth and wondered which came up lacking.

When his restless feet carried Kenshin to Tokyo, he received the news of the latest warrior taking up the name of Battousai with weariness and exasperation. As followed the norm, this "Battousai" towered over the "common" people, his form demonic with the fierce strength contained in his powerful build. He called out his name for all to hear, his maniacal cries echoing through the street. _Hardly the attitude befitting an assassin_, Kenshin thought cynically. Strangely enough, no one caught onto that.

Fortunately, before Kenshin could convince his tired conscience that it was his responsibility to take out this newest threat, a new rumor spread of a young thug wiping out the imposter and his followers. Nothing new, as street fighters were always eager to up their fame by taking on the infamous Battousai. Kenshin had noted this fact idly, mostly relieved that he would not have to part from his beloved obscurity. In the end, Tokyo would be just another town in a long list of towns.

And so, Kenshin walked through the crowded streets, his sharp eyes through a deliberate shroud of crimson idly picking up the similarities between this town and every other town he had seen on his journey. The few differences and local variations he saw lightened his heart, a freedom allowed to these people in the Meiji Era. However, no one picked up on his light smiles through the wild red locks. The bloody strands served another purpose, hiding his telltale scar from the surrounding gossipers. No matter where he went, people gossiped, and while he rarely stayed around long enough to fully understand the import of the gossip, he had discovered during his manslayer days that it was always good to know what was going on around one's self . . . and even better if no one suspected one of doing it.

"Ugh! All those innocent people that man killed. . . . Can you imagine? An assassin in this day and age?"

"Those poor people he murdered. Was the school affected by it? Did they lose any customers?"

"No, he took care of that monster quick enough. And so publicly! Personally, he frightens me almost as much as that assassin did. Have you heard what he wears?"

"No, what?"

"The kanji for 'evil' on his back. How horrid!"

And thus all talk ran. The current topic of Battousai and the young thug who had stopped him enthralled the citizens of Tokyo. Against his will, Kenshin found himself intrigued. This great strength they spoke of the thug possessing. . . . He sounded like an interesting person. Too bad Kenshin would not get the chance to meet him.

Indigo eyes averted, Kenshin unassumingly plodded on. No one noticed the petite redhead slipping through the crowd. Hardly anyone ever did. This was simply the newest town in Kenshin's journey. He would be leaving it soon.


	2. Chapter I: Beautiful Strangers

Title: Different Lives  
Author: tir-synni  
A/N: A little note mentioned in the beautiful RK yaoi story _He Who Chases Demons_, written by Kentaro, was the inspiration for this fic. Very simply, the note stated that there was an excellent chance Kenshin would have ended up with Sanosuke if he had met him first. This fic explores that from a blatantly biased perspective.  
Beta: offers almond-coated pocky to Arete  
Addy: relisprince(at)hotmail(dot)com

Chapter I: Beautiful Strangers

When he was young, he had been bought for the sole purpose of being sold again. When a little Shinta had heard this, among the mocking jeers of the slavers and the pitying murmurs of the slaves, he had not understood. In the fields, Shinta's tiny hands had worked as hard as any other slave. He had walked alongside the others, his small feet gaining the familiar calluses of the road. He was a slave, lived as a slave, and worked as a slave. He identified himself as a slave and saw nothing that separated him from the others.  
Yet, sometimes at night, the slavers would pull Shinta away from the other slaves. A soothing balm would be rubbed into his pale skin, especially into his roughening palms and feet. His flesh would glisten in the moonlight like dew on lily petals. The protective calluses would fade, leaving only vulnerable, soft skin. They would take his fiery hair, so different from the other slaves', and brush it until it shone. At the end, the slavers would tilt his face into the light and wipe it clean with water and lotions. Finished, they would step away and observe the quiet, naked, shivering boy on the futon. When Shinta dressed again and returned to the other slaves, the raucous laughter of his masters still rang in his ears. Still, even after this ritual, Shinta had not understood.  
Then they started for Edo.  
Shinta had heard Misses Sakura, Akane, and Kaumi one night. He was not supposed to hear them. He had known that then, and the man who was formerly called Shinta knew it even more clearly than his child counterpart. A mere accident, he had claimed before, a statement now viewed with aged cynicism. The trio's conversation had been hushed and fevered, held in the darkness away from the torches and campfire. Shinta had walked over to them with benign intentions, to inquire if they were thirsty, no more, and their voices had carried. They spoke of what their little Shinta could expect in Edo. They spoke frantically of his ethereal beauty and exotic coloring. They moaned of his inevitable fate and estimated life span. Years later, a gift his mind had gracefully departed to him, he could not remember which of the three had offered, but one's voice had trembled as she suggested saving him from that nightmare. The others had refused. Perhaps that fate was not for him. Perhaps the gods would want someone as special as him for another destiny.  
They had been right.  
But many like those slave-traders still existed, even in the supposedly gracious Meiji Era, who only saw his "ethereal beauty" and "exotic coloring." Again, lust—whether for his body or the money they could claim from selling his body—would arise, and his virtue would be challenged.

However . . . Himura Kenshin was not as helpless as Shinta had been.

"Hey, pretty one, what are you doing walking all alone?"

The mocking voice carried easily through the sun-lit alley. Two small feet paused, a crimson head tilted in seeming confusion. "Oro?" Kenshin greeted the voice, a soft, placid smile curving his lips. Bemused violet eyes hid a quickly calculating mind, but no one ever knew that.

At the entrance of the alley, three grunts stood, each by no means remarkable. Kenshin did not have to turn around to know two more stood behind him. How inane. He had been struggling to avoid such confrontations since arriving in Tokyo. He supposed at least one was inevitable. He truly did not mind . . . much. It would be easy to deal with these arrogant children.

As Kenshin casually reviewed the least bothersome way to deal with the muscle-bound gang, one man stepped forward. Idly, Kenshin noted the unusual blue eyes in the man's dark face. Such differences in street gangs either created scapegoats or leaders. Judging by the strut, the blue-eyed man was the leader of this particular group.

"Beautiful," Blue-Eyes drawled. He openly appraised Kenshin. Kenshin shifted as to offer the man the best view, at the same time balancing himself. Blue-Eyes nodded in seeming approval of his actions before pausing on Kenshin's distinctive cross scars. By the considering life of his bushy brows, the redhead's face still passed muster. He ran his eyes over Kenshin's thin frame, and Kenshin noted the man's experience as Blue-Eyes visibly dissected Kenshin's unflattering pink garb to find the "treasure within." Again, Blue-Eyes paused, this time at Kenshin's waist. Kenshin's reverse-blade sword was easily brushed aside. Perhaps he could not believe the petite stranger could wield such a weapon? A familiar case of naivety that the years after the war had encouraged. He dismissed Kenshin's blade as a threat. He dismissed _Kenshin_ as a threat. Recognizing the final piece to an easy victory, Kenshin smiled cheerfully at the stranger.

"Thank you very much," Kenshin chirped, bowing humbly. "Your pardons but this one continues on. It has been very nice meeting you."

Blank violet eyes noting the rising triumph in Blue-Eyes' face, Kenshin turned around and smiled at the two goons approaching from the other side of the alley. Unblinking, he heard the other three stomp behind him. None of them felt any need to try to hide themselves from the petite redhead, and Kenshin doubted that any of them were intelligent enough to figure out how.

"I don't think so." One of the duo in front of him, the most muscular of the group. The words thickly struggled for coherence from his deep, hoarse voice. Idly, Kenshin wondered about his chances of finding a cheap noodle dish close to the alley. "We . . . want to have some fun with you first."

Kenshin graced him with a pleasant smile. "Oro?" he inquired sweetly. His reverse-blade sword hung heavily at his waist.

"So lovely." A new voice. Kenshin decided against telling him that some honey would clear up that rasp of his. "I wonder if you taste as good as you look."

They were all in range. He would offer some warning, despite already knowing their response and then—

Wait! Who was that? That aura . . . a fighter!

Only Kenshin did not jump when the new voice rang out. "Don't you punks have anything better to do than pick on people weaker than you?"

Kenshin obligingly turned with the rest to face the newcomer. Kenshin curiously tilted his head, drinking in the sight of a tall, muscled brunet posing dramatically at the mouth of the alley. Normally, the pose itself would raise Kenshin's doubts, but the younger man's fighting spirit drew Kenshin. There was no scent of blood, but the swordsman knew that that was not a predecessor to strength. Kenshin studied the stranger, even as the men around him stiffened defensively.

Could this be . . . the one. . . ?

xoxoxox

Sagara Sanosuke looked on, amused at the scene. He knew this gang: a small-time group trying to be big boys in the bad streets of Tokyo. He snorted. And it took all five of them to corner a tiny redhead in a secluded alley. Sano only had to look at the redhead once to know what they were striving for. The redhead's clothes were too old and worn for them to be trying for money, unless they were dumber than Sano thought. A sword scabbard hung from the man's side, but Sano guessed it was more for appearance than actual use. Someone that dainty couldn't possibly be a swordsman, so they weren't after him for a challenge.

However . . . Even Sanosuke's attention was captured by those long crimson tresses, casually thrown in a low ponytail. Twin scars sliced one smooth, pale cheek, carving an X, but the cross seemed to enhance rather than mar his exquisite beauty. The redhead's small, delicate figure, complemented by his small hands and feet, entranced Sano. Yep. Sanosuke knew what these punks wanted. These goons—Sano wrinkled his nose in distaste—were just looking for a fuck.

"Why don't you assholes try for something that'll give you more of a challenge?" Sano purred, diverting his attention back to the gang. All five tensed but showed no signs of collaborating, planning, or even reaching for a weapon. Amateurs. Weaklings. No challenge here but perhaps their numbers would provide some cheap entertainment. In anticipation, Sano cracked his knuckles. "Like me."

Amidst the rising tension, the redhead tilted his head curiously and looked around. All the while, a strange, blank, cheerful smile played on surprisingly lush lips. "Oro?" he offered, seemingly oblivious of the five thugs surrounding him.

_Must be a little dim_, Sano thought. _Maybe his family is providing for him, or maybe he is a prostitute. Doesn't matter. He doesn't deserve to be gang-raped._

"You just stay there, little one," Sano called to the beauty. "I'll take care of these goons."

That brilliant, if blank smile flashed his way; the redhead's eyes hid under red bangs, so Sano had no idea what the man was thinking, if he was even thinking at all. If the stranger had time to respond, perhaps Sano might have found out, but one thug with odd blue eyes let out a roar and plunged forward. The rest took that as their cue and charged. Sano smirked.

"Time for fun," he breathed.

The blue-eyed thug practically ran into Sano's fist. Blood gushed from his nose, spraying another thug before the blue-eyed punk collapsed to the ground. The second one dropped just as quickly, eyes barely starting to widen in surprise at how quickly his "leader" was defeated.

For the first time, the remaining three realized something was wrong and paused. Sano smirked at them. Even then, they didn't try to work together as a team. There was no obvious plan. The trio simply bounced on the balls of their feet and glanced warily at each other and Sanosuke. He bared his teeth at them in a mockery of a smile. Within five minutes, they joined their comrades in the dirt.

With a disgusted grunt, Sano kicked the blue-eyed thug in the thigh. "Not even a challenge," he scorned, a part of him lamenting the fact. Even with their numbers, he had not bruised his knuckles. Weaklings, all.

Snorting, Sano looked away from the defeated gang . . . and blinked in surprise when he noticed the redhead still standing silently in the same spot. "You're still here?" he asked. "I thought you would run as soon as the battle started." _Perhaps he is a little dim, after all._

The stranger smiled sweetly at him and bowed. "You asked this one to stay here, that you did," he reminded Sano softly. "And this one had to thank you for you help. It was kind of you to stop and help." He bowed again. "Your pardons."

Sano blinked. The stranger's odd politeness struck a chord in him, and he hastily pushed the feeling away. _Right. Didn't expect him to listen. But he might have also seen a client or somethin', too._ Sano couldn't help but frown at the thought. _Hope not. He'll be disappointed if he's waitin' for that._

"I just wanted a fight, that's all," Sano dismissed. "I thought they would give me a challenge." He glared at the leader, now whimpering pathetically at his feet, and gave him another kick. "They couldn't even give me that."

The redhead bowed deeply. _He's so fuckin' formal!_ Sano thought in fascination.

"Thank you very much. I hope you find your challenge soon." Bowing again, the beautiful stranger turned on his heel and began walking out of the alley.

_Nope. Not a slut after all. Just dumb._ Sano frowned, looking at the scarred stranger's retreating form. In another couple steps, he would be swallowed up by Tokyo's busy streets. _How old is he? He doesn't look that old. What the hell is someone like that walking alone for, anyway? He'll be attacked again. I can't let someone like that walk around as an easy target._

Satisfied with his own logic, Sano stepped over the faintly moaning bodies. "Hey!" he shouted, jogging forward. His long legs easily cut the distance between himself and the now still redhead.

As Sano came abreast the stranger, the redhead twisted to face him. "Oro?" he inquired. The most beautiful eyes Sano had ever seen gazed at him from under long lashes, and Sano's breath caught. Before this stranger, he had never seen eyes that shade. A gentle violet, like he had seen on flowers.

"You shouldn't be walking the streets alone," Sano declared, slouching beside the blinking man. "Where's your home? I'll walk you there."

The redhead's lovely smile never faltered. "Your pardons, that is not necessary. This one will be all right." Another bow. "This one is a wanderer, a swordsman traveling with no destination. This one is used to walking alone."

Sano blinked, his mind struggling to digest the new info. "A wanderer?"

"Yes," the scarred man confirmed. "Thank you very much for your offer, however." He nodded respectfully at Sano before turning and walking once more.

For a long moment—that was actually only a couple of seconds—Sano gaped at the beauty's back. The long, silky red hair swayed gently with each step, covering the unflattering kimono. That kimono only seemed to emphasize his elfin stature, making him seem painfully tiny in Sano's eyes. How could one such as he survive long enough to be a wanderer? He couldn't really think that sword was going to scare people off. No one would believe he could use it!

"Hey!" Sano called again, jogging to the redhead's side once more. This time, the stranger did not stop, only blinked curiously at Sanosuke.

"Oro?" he inquired gently, walking out of the alley and into the street. Amidst the bustling population, the stranger seemed even slighter. To Sano's feverish mind, it seemed like a good gust of wind could blow him away.

"Well, I'm at least walking you out of here," Sano declared roughly. "This is a dangerous place." _Definitely not meant for someone like you!_

"Pardon but you needn't bother—" the stranger began, but Sano waved him away.

"I don't mind." Sano winked at him. "Sagara Sanosuke."

The redhead smiled sweetly at him. "Himura Kenshin. That is my name . . . today."


	3. Chapter II: Home Sweet Home

Title: Different Lives  
Author: tir-synni  
A/N: A little note mentioned in the beautiful RK yaoi story _He Who Chases Demons_, written by Kentaro, was the inspiration for this fic. Very simply, the note stated that there was an excellent chance Kenshin would have ended up with Sanosuke if he had met him first. This fic explores that from a blatantly biased perspective. Also, thankyouverymuch for all the reviews! I don't need them, but I adore them nonetheless (hides "review-whore" sign behind back). Esp. adore constructive criticism.  
Beta: (offers almond-coated pocky to Arete)  
Addy: relisprince(at)hotmail(dot)com

Chapter II: Home Sweet Home

Several times, Sanosuke found himself laying a gentle hand on Kenshin's back, reassuring himself that the tiny redhead was still there. Hoards of people crowded the narrow streets, and with Kenshin's size, Sanosuke expected the smaller man to be trampled. Besides, it allowed him to guide Kenshin successfully towards himself . . . to compare their sizes, of course. His hand easily covered the small of Kenshin's back, plus a good chunk of the upper half. As an added bonus, the closeness allowed Sanosuke to study the redhead better.

The scar drew Sanosuke's eye again. Standing so close, Sano could not help but see it. At first Sano had been distracted by Kenshin's diminutive height. Secondly, Kenshin's beautiful eyes had enchanted. While he had notice the scar, it had not truly caught his attention. Now Sanosuke had trouble looking away.

Two dark lines slashed Kenshin's cheek, forming a large X. Sanosuke could not guess the age, but he presumed something like a knife made them. The scars themselves were smooth, although Sano doubted they had healed smoothly. It was like Kenshin had received the marks and then had not tended them. Did he receive them at the same time? Why had he not healed them? How serious had they been originally? The scars only added to the overall mystery of the slight wanderer.

"This one is sorry if I had done something," Kenshin spoke up softly, distracting Sanosuke from his perusal. The redhead tilted his head towards Sanosuke, and again the fighter was enraptured by those amazing eyes. "Please forgive me."

Sanosuke blinked. "You haven't done anything."

Kenshin lowered his head, his long hair hiding his face. Sano could not see his eyes. "The way you were looking at me," he replied demurely, "This one simply assumed. . . . "

Like his eyes, his voice remained curiously blank, though cheerful. Sanosuke could discern nothing from his tone.

"Ah, you know you like it," Sanosuke teased, lightly pushing Kenshin. The wanderer stumbled, but Sano refrained from catching him. He hadn't shoved him _that_ hard. He was fine. "I bet a lot of people would love for me to stare at them like that!"

He heard a subtle cough from somewhere. Suspiciously, Sanosuke looked around, but he couldn't see anyone looking at them. Several men were staring intently at the redhead at Sano's side, but a hard glare from Sano made them turn away. Scowling, Sanosuke glanced back at Kenshin. The redhead had yet to raise his head.

"This one is sure a lot of people would," Kenshin allowed. Again, Sanosuke's hand rested on the small of his back, directing him down an alley. Busy making sure no one else was eying the redhead, it took a few moments for Kenshin's words to click. Sanosuke narrowed his eyes at Kenshin.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

Kenshin raised his head, wide-eyed. "Nothing!" he said quickly. "Nothing at all!"

Why did Sano have the feeling that Kenshin was laughing at him from behind those blank eyes? "You're laughing at me!" he burst out.

Scratching the back of his head, Kenshin stared innocently at Sanosuke. "Oro?" he offered weakly.

"You're laughing!" Sanosuke roared. Diving, he pulled Kenshin into a headlock and fiercely rubbed his red head. "I saw that! I saw that!"

"Orororororo. . . ." Kenshin mewled.

xoxoxox

Successfully freed from Sanosuke's daring attack, Kenshin decided that he preferred the noogie to what Sano called home. Sweatdropping, he carefully followed Sanosuke into the hut. So Sano had saved him from those thugs for this? Goons were _easy_ compared to this!

"Beautiful, ain't it?" Sanosuke exclaimed, extravagantly waving his hand. "Home sweet home!"

Kenshin swallowed. "Homey," he agreed faintly. Beyond the endless mounds of clothes, old food, trash and other articles Kenshin did not even want to speculate on, he was sure it was a lovely home.

Grinning proudly, Sanosuke led the wary swordsman through the rest of his home. Relying on his training, Kenshin secured the safety of his feet and kept an eye out for potentially dangerous zones. For several years in his youth, he had lived in the home of a sworn bachelor, his "dear" drunken master. While he wandered, he sometimes passed in the homes of generous people and rested. Out of all of those homes, the swordsman was positive that Sanosuke's was the messiest he had ever seen. Kenshin sucked in a deep breath. It might take all of his skills to survive this.

"You can stay here for a while," Sanosuke continued cheerfully, carelessly leading Kenshin to the back of the hut. Kenshin had to literally hop over one mound of clothes to follow him. "I do some . . . odd jobs . . . around town. You'll be safe here. Just don't leave this hut without me, all right? This is a dangerous town, and you could get hurt. In the morning, I'll walk you out of this town."

Kenshin raised an internal eyebrow. Heh. He had never imagined choosing to walk down that alley would lead to the most interesting adventure he had had in years. Judging by the "evil" symbol on Sanosuke's back—since entering the hut, he had gotten a _very_ good look at it—this was the same man who had defeated the fake Battousai. And saving him from those thugs, then taking him into his home to _protect_ him . . . definitely a first. Topping it off, judging by Sanosuke's words, the swordsman was beginning to get a good idea concerning Sanosuke's "odd jobs." To his surprise, Kenshin found himself grateful to those goons.

_In the mean time,_ Kenshin mused, looking around, _it might give this one time to—_

"You stay here, 'kay?" Sanosuke went on, distracting Kenshin from his thoughts. "I have to run back into town. I was kinda checking on someone when I met you." Sanosuke pounded Kenshin on the back, and the redhead willingly went with the motion. He heard Sanosuke laugh at him, but he didn't care. "You want me to buy you a knife or knives while I'm in town? No one will believe that you can use that sword of yours."

Kenshin stiffened, and he felt something inside him rear up at Sanosuke's careless words. However, when he faced Sanosuke, a cheerful smile decorated his face. "Oh, my sword is fine, if you will. It will be fine."

Sanosuke frowned. "No one's going to believe you can use that sword," he warned. "You need something to defend yourself with."

Kenshin's smile felt faker than usual on his face. The urge to clean his hands burned within him. A real blade . . . he had done enough with a real blade. Almost against his will, he began rubbing his hands against his clothes. "It works," he murmured, his cheeks hurting. "It's a reverse-blade sword. It still is fine."

Frowning, Sanosuke studied the sheath at Kenshin's side and then stared at the swordsman's hands. With a concentrated effort, Kenshin forced his hands still.

"Riiiight," Sano mumbled. Then he cleared his throat. "Okay, I guess it's worked for you so far. I shouldn't be gone too long. Why don't you take a nap? It's probably been a long day for you."

Kenshin glanced outside the still open door. Shadows slowly darkened the wild bushes surrounding Sanosuke's home. Then he glanced _inside_ Sano's home and cringed. He doubted he'd be able to sleep anytime soon.

"I shall simply wait for you," Kenshin demurred. _And clean_, he added mentally. After years of cleaning for the slave traders, then later for his master, cleaning had become securely engrained into his mindset. Many of the people he had stayed with had loved him simply because he had left them with a much cleaner home.

Or perhaps . . . he cleaned . . . because he himself would never be clean.

His hands began rubbing at his sides again, and he forcibly calmed himself. That was not helping matters at all.

Sanosuke's eyes narrowed, but he simply said, "Try to rest. I'll see you later."

After ruffling Kenshin's hair again like he was a child and lighting a small lamp for the redhead, Sanosuke left the small, dirty hut. Kenshin watched him leave silently. His eyes narrowed.

That "evil" sign . . . he had heard of something like that before. There was a lot more to Sagara Sanosuke than he knew. He wasn't sure how long he would rest in Tokyo, but he was determined to learn more about the interesting young man.

Something about Sanosuke disturbed Kenshin. He couldn't determine what.

Vaguely, Kenshin shook his head. It didn't matter. Soon he would be back on the road, and Sagara Sanosuke would be a distant memory. Until then . . . Kenshin frowned at the messy hut. It was time to earn his keep.


	4. Chapter III: Long Nights

Title: Different Lives  
Author: tir-synni  
A/N: A little note mentioned in the beautiful RK yaoi story _He Who Chases Demons_, written by Kentaro, was the inspiration for this fic. Very simply, the note stated that there was an excellent chance Kenshin would have ended up with Sanosuke if he had met him first. This fic explores that from a blatantly biased perspective.  
Also, thanks for all the reviews. They helped remind me that this fic existed.  
Beta: offers almond-coated pocky to Arete  
Addy: relisprince(at)hotmail(dot)com

Chapter III: Long Nights

Even walking alone down the dark streets of Tokyo, Sano felt no concern about his safety. A fishbone dangling from his lips, he hummed a tuneless song and strutted towards the dojo. He felt wary eyes on himself, but since they were leaving him alone, Sanosuke felt content to leave them alone. Defeating the infamous "Battousai" had done wonders for his reputation; the weak ones left him alone, leaving the stronger ones to seek him out. Normally, this situation would have thrilled Sanosuke, except—

_That wasn't the Hitokiri Battousai_, Sano mused. _No way would the legendary assassin go down that quickly. _

_Eyes of flame,_ the legend recalled. _A demon from the darkness, flitting out and killing his prey without a sound or motion. The epitome of ruthlessness and death, what all assassins aspire to become._

A mocking snort interrupted Sano's humming. If that was all assassins could aspire to, boasting and terrorizing innocent girls, then it was no wonder assassins were in such short demands nowadays. Though that was kinda surprising, too, considering the traitorous weaklings of the Meiji Era—

Sanosuke cut off that line of thought with a quick shake of his head. If it wasn't for that bastard, he never would have met the little miss—_the first_, he thought with a wry smirk, _of my strays._ Sano had to admit, the fiery young lady intrigued him with her sword that fought for peace—a contradiction in itself—but the mysterious redhead waiting at his home captivated him more.

Sanosuke spotted the little miss' home, and he discretely hurried his steps. He'd ask her about the wannabe swordsman. She knew more of that field than him. Maybe she'd have heard something.

_Or at least_, Sano thought, _she'll be able to guess why he kept rubbing his hands like that._

Sanosuke slipped through the dojo's gates and strolled to the entrance. On both sides of him, he could see evidence of the students who had practiced there earlier that day: a wide variety of footprints, a lost sandal, a small hat. Idly, he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't stopped that nut when he did. A moment later, the fighter shrugged. Oh well. Old news.

Stepping over a discarded broom and a pile of dust, Sanosuke called out, "Hey! Anyone home?"

Once upon a time, Captain Sagara had told a young Sano about large, lumbering creatures who lived to the west of Japan called "elephants". Sanosuke decided that if those elephants ever chose to stampede, they would sound like the little miss running through the dojo.

A door slammed open, and Kamiya Kaoru smiled brightly at Sanosuke. "Good evening!" she chirped. "Do you want to come in?"

xoxoxox

The house didn't take as long to clean as Kenshin thought it would. He supposed nervous energy and experience speeded up what would otherwise be a long and tedious experience. As monotonous as it was, tossing out trash and gathering clothes usually took a decent amount of time to complete. Now Kenshin hovered over a steaming mass of soapy water, diligently cleaning food-encrusted dishes. The repetitive motion helped relax him.

_This one supposes some rest is needed_, Kenshin mused, frowning at a chunk of mold the size of his palm. It moved in a motion oddly resembling a wink, and Kenshin shuddered. Hastily, he shoved it back into the hot water. _This one has not stopped for a while. Perhaps that is why Sanosuke distracts me so. _The former assassin sighed. _He's but a child. No matter how strong he has to be to defeat the fake Battousai, he is still a product of the Meiji Era. A child of peace who does not understand the implications of it._ He smiled bitterly to himself. _Perhaps I should call him a child of the war then._

The symbol "evil" tugged at his memory. Sometimes, it was so hard to recall things. It was impossible to banish only particular memories.

_This one'll remember soon_, Kenshin decided, putting the new sparkling plate on the glistening counter. He always remembered in the end.

Kenshin frowned at one chipped cup and took a dainty sniff. Ugh! Wrinkling his nose, he tossed the cup into the water with a mental reminder to never ask details about Sano's home and habits.

Earlier, Sanosuke had told him that he would escort him out of Tokyo in the morning. If Kenshin asked nicely, would Sanosuke allow him to stay? Kenshin mused on the question for a moment. If not, he would reside in the forests outside Tokyo and relax there. If so, he would find out more about Sagara. Simple.

The water burbled oddly, and Kenshin warily eyed it. Maybe he should have looked at the dishes before putting them in the water. Kenshin cringed.

"Ororororo. . . ."

xoxoxox

Sanosuke flinched, hearing Kaoru crash around the kitchen. He was hungry, but maybe he should have bought something on the way home and shared with Kenshin. Kenshin was probably hungry, too. _Besides_, he thought drolly, hearing some distinctly unladylike cursing coming from the kitchen, _it'd probably be safer, too._

Almost immediately after shooing Sano in, Kaoru had offered to make him dinner. Before Sano could answer, the fiery brunette had run off to the other room, muttering to herself. That should have been his first warning. The low wail about "Is this salt? Or is this the salt?" was another good clue. It escalated from there.

_I have to ask her about Kenshin_, Sano reminded himself desperately, the smoke snaking along the ceiling beginning to frighten him. _She teaches sword-stuff. She has to know other swordsmen. She'll know more than I do._

Odd smells emerged from the kitchen, followed by the little miss' cheerful, if slightly strained, voice: "It's ready!"

For some reason, Sano wished the fake Battousai was back.

xoxoxox

If Kenshin thought the dishes were bad, they had nothing on the laundry. Three tries later and he _still_ couldn't work up a decent lather. The water darkened to a frightening shade of green; the soap suds never had a chance to froth. Shivering, Kenshin dumped out the water beyond the bushes, as not to harm Sano's plants, and filled up the tub at a nearby stream.

_So many clothes_, Kenshin mused, looking ruefully at his own worn clothes. _I wonder how many he has. Does he wear these over and over again without washing them?_

Tossing the original batch back into the water for the fourth time, Kenshin resumed scrubbing. Sano's old supply of soap—ironically found under the earlier moldy plate—was running out. Hopefully, he'd be able to clean at least some clothes before finishing off the soap. While it would be easy to run out and get more, he didn't know when Sagara would return. After Sanosuke's generosity, it felt wrong to leave, knowing Sanosuke expected him to stay at the hut.

_The legendary Hitokiri Battousai_, Kenshin thought scornfully, _the perfect housewife._

Just thinking about the legends following his time as an assassin made Kenshin nauseous. So much glorified death and blood, all revolving around a naïve, foolish fourteen year old boy. Viciously, Kenshin scrubbed a brown-tinged cloth. He would never understand it.

And he hated such pathetic thoughts. It Master knew of his whining, he would smack him into the filthy water, shouting mockingly, "Stupid student!" Kenshin cringed. Master always did have an odd fetish with liquids. Constantly drinking one and tossing Kenshin into another.

The ribbon holding his hair back tickled his neck, refreshing pleasant memories concerning its origins. Concentrating on those memories, Kenshin began humming. He held up a finally clean article of clothing, making sure it didn't drip on his own clothes. Still humming an old slave song, Kenshin draped the cloth over the counter and reached for the next article of clothing.

And with his heart in his throat, Kenshin froze.

xoxoxox

Sano had to admit, sometime later as he waited for his stomach to settle, that Kaoru was certainly generous with her supplies and time. Most people would be too stingy to waste that much seasoning on a guest. And most people wouldn't waste so much of their precious time to make sure the food was so thoroughly done.

Sano coughed, vomit mingling with the taste of burnt, salty fish at the back of his throat. _That raccoon is the worst fuckin' cook I've ever known!_

Kaoru peeked out of the door, her pretty face flushed. Sano couldn't decide if it was out of embarrassment or indignation. Maybe both. "Ah . . . I don't get to cook that often," she offered weakly. "But I'm getting better!"

It was for the best Sano couldn't speak; he would have lost one of his strays right there.

Kaoru smiled brightly at him. "I'll make dinner next time you come over! It'll be better then."

Sano hastily rolled back over on the porch again. "Ugh!"

xoxoxox

Kenshin's hand shook as he numbly picked up the blood splattered cloth, dropping it into the water. Red sluggishly tinged the water, and Kenshin stared at it, fascinated.

_This one can't escape it_, the former Battousai thought, a chill growing in his bones. _Blood . . . blood everywhere. Blood everywhere I touch._ Kenshin shuddered, his eyes dilating. He caused the bloody rain. He could smell the salt of it, mingling with copper and white plums.

A hand smacked his face—hard—knocking Kenshin out of his daze. Blinking, Kenshin stared at his reddened hand. An automatic reaction, more than ten years old, used by a frantic assassin who could not afford to fall into depression, now used by a frantic wanderer who could not afford to fall into flashbacks.

Taking a swift breath, Kenshin plunged his hands back into the water and resumed scrubbing. If he desired to stay in the home of a fighter, than he'd better get used to it.

xoxoxox

The hot sake was a soothing balm to Sano's sore throat, and he sighed in satisfaction as he lowered his cup again. Whatever else was said about the little miss, she had good sake.

Kaoru frowned as she kneeled across from Sanosuke, her cup of tea warming her hands. "You really shouldn't be drinking alcohol if you're not feeling well," she scolded. "You have a really weak constitution."

Sano felt his right eye twitch. Bright violet eyes flashed through his mind, and steady hands poured him more sake. "Have you ever heard of a redheaded wandering swordsman?" he asked evenly, swallowing his sake in one gulp.

Kaoru blinked. "A redheaded wandering swordsman? No. The only swordsmen I know teach in dojo. No swordsmen I know wander. There's no need for such actions in the Meiji Era."

The twitch returned. More sake splashed.

"He also has an odd habit," Sano managed, feeling much mellower. "He rubs his hands a lot."

Sano, not the most observant person anyway, stood no chance with the sake running through his system of noticing Kaoru stiffening. "How does he rub his hands?' she asked calmly.

After yet another cup of sake, Sano lowered his cup and demonstrated, rubbing his hands on his bandages. "He does it like this."

Kaoru bit her lip, riveted by the motion of Sano's hands. "His hands were probably sweaty, a bad condition for a swordsman," she offered weakly. "Have you seen him use his sword? How old is he?"

Sano scoffed. "He can't be that much older than you, and there's no way in hell a tiny guy like that can use a sword."

Kaoru nibbled her lower lip. "All right," she murmured, and her frowned deepened. "Will you be able to make it home okay? You didn't drink too much? You can stay here if you want."

Sano waved her off and stumbled to his feet. "Nah. Kenshin is waiting for me. The poor guy said he'd wait up for me, and he's probably exhausted."

Kaoru nodded hesitantly. "All right," she murmured. She stood up and walked with Sano to the gate. Despite the alcohol he consumed, Sano walked steadily at her side.

Sano grinned at her. "I'll see you later. Next time, I'll bring something over to eat."

Kaoru smiled weakly and watched her guardian walk into the darkness, a warning about standing in the dark alone tossed carelessly over his shoulder. When the last echo of his voice faded, Kaoru's smile fled.

"He was probably sweaty," she murmured to herself. "Besides, Sanosuke can take care of himself."

Nodding securely to herself, Kaoru walked back into the dojo. Soon the lights went out.

xoxoxox

The light was still on in Sano's home when he returned. Sano smiled fondly to himself. He recalled, only hours ago, telling Kenshin to stay still in the alley, and despite the fight taking place right in front of him, the petite redhead obediently stayed still. Perhaps the redhead was relaxing on Sano's futon, or maybe Kenshin was snooping around. Sano chuckled at the thought. He supposed he should have picked up a bit, but at least there was plenty there to l—

Sano opened his door. His jaw dropped.

All of his clothes were washed and hanging in various places around the house, drying. His dishes were washed and placed carefully on the counter. His floor was swept, his ceiling dusted. He had a table! Hell, he had a floor! When the hell did that happen?

Still gaping, Sano turned and saw Kenshin leaning against the wall, his long red bangs hiding his face. His voice was as cheerful as ever. "Good evening."

Sano swallowed. "Hi," he said faintly. He gestured at the newly discovered house. "Did you do this?"

Kenshin tilted his head, wild hair falling over one shoulder. "Yes, that this one did. Do you mind?"

After a bit of effort, Sano closed his mouth. He had _never_ seen his house this clean. And Kenshin had done it in only a few hours! And Kenshin was asking if he minded! Weakly, he shook his head and wondered how to tell the guys. They'd never believe him.

Through a shroud of hair, Kenshin smiled. Gracefully, he slid down the wall, his blade subtly pushed out of his way. "Goodnight, Sanosuke sir," Kenshin murmured.

Sano blinked at him. "Hey, hey! Let me grab you some blankets or somethin'! You can use my futon tonight."

Kenshin visibly yawned. "I am fine, thank you."

Recovering from tonight's continual mental abuse, Sano shook his head and stalked over to Kenshin. "No way in hell. You're my guest, you cleaned my house, you get the blasted futon."

Kenshin's eyes widened comically as Sanosuke scooped him into his strong arms. "Sanosuke sir—" he yelped.

Kenshin's sword clattered painfully against Sano's knee. _Doesn't he ever take that off?_ Sano wondered, hiding a cringe. With a flourish, Sano plopped Kenshin onto the futon, carefully positioning the redhead so his sword didn't stab either of them. The breath exploded from the light young man. Wide violet eyes stared up at Sanosuke.

Sano couldn't help but smirk at the sheer dumbfounded look on the redhead's face. "Stop pouting," he teased. "You look like no one's ever done that to you."

A silent blink answered. Then, to Sano's amusement, Kenshin began chuckling. For the first time since Sano had saved him, a true sparkle entered those beautiful eyes.

"It is not common," Kenshin admitted. "Where will you sleep?"

Smirking, Sano shrugged. "I'll just grab a blanket and lay beside ya."

Kenshin smiled and finally moved the blade, though he still placed it close. "That's fine, Sanosuke sir."

Sano returned a moment later, his arms full of blankets, and began unwrapping the bandages from his waist. At Sano's raised eyebrow, Kenshin obligingly slipped out of his outer clothes.

"Sano," Sanosuke corrected, plopping beside Kenshin.

Kenshin chuckled softly. "Sano," he agreed.

Several minutes later, the room was submerged in darkness.

"Goodnight."

"Heh. Goodnight."


	5. Chapter IV: Odd Situations

Title: Different Lives  
Author: tir-synni  
Disclaimer: You see how the series would have gone if I wrote it.  
A/N: This fic is manga-based, so if you see some unexpected characters, that's why.

Chapter IV:

Long after the sun rose, Sagara Sanosuke still lay sprawled on his futon, snoring loudly. His covers had been tossed aside a long time ago. Drool drenched the worn pillow beneath his head. If nothing else, the young fighter looked supremely comfortable.

Too bad Himura Kenshin couldn't say the same.

With a heavy "Oro!", Kenshin stared despairingly at the strong leg tossed carelessly over his thighs, felt the hand possessively twined in his hair. Sanosuke-si—_Sano_, he reminded himself—Sano's constant playing with his hair during the night had torn his poor hair from his beloved ribbon and almost ripped his hair from his aching head. As usual, Kenshin had woken at dawn, and he had been staring sorrowfully between the ceiling and Sano ever since.

_Yes_, he thought miserably. _This one is truly in a unique situation._

"Orororo. . . ." Kenshin mewled. For the fiftieth time in the past three hours, he tried to detangle Sano's hand from his long hair. Like the past fifty times, even Kenshin's strength failed to budge the fingers. He whimpered, fighting the unmanly tears that sprung to his eyes. **_No one_** grabbed his beloved hair like this. Not even the most desperate fighter during the Bakumatsu had dared to grab his hair.

Of course, not since his days with Master had anyone dared to pick him up like that, either.

Just the thought of that warm flesh wrapped around him made Kenshin shiver. It had been so long since he had last been touched. Years had passed since his last true human contact. Not since. . . .

Kenshin stared at the ceiling.

Beside him, he felt a gentle shift in Sano's ki, heard a soft change in Sano's breathing. Kenshin sighed in relief. He heard Sano yawn, one of the final signs of true awakening, and—

"**_ORO!_**" Kenshin howled, tears finally springing to his eyes as Sano stretched, taking Kenshin's hair with him. Instantly, Sano jerked awake, and Kenshin wailed as Sanosuke kicked his legs. The moment Sano leaped into a fighting position, Kenshin flew back and huddled against the wall. "Ororororo. . . ."

Sano's dark eyes darted around the room. "Are you all right, Kenshin?" he demanded. "Was somebody in here? Are you hurt?"

Kenshin stared at him with wide, watery eyes. "You are a restless sleeper, that you are," he solemnly told Sano. Cringing, he shifted his legs. Ow.

Sano blinked. "Eh? Were you having a nightmare or somethin'?"

Sighing, Kenshin bowed his head. "Or something," he agreed.

Confused, Sano stared at his guest for a moment long, and Kenshin demurely stared at the ground. Why did Sano keep staring at him? His long red hair tumbled down his shoulders, and Kenshin bit back a groan. Riiiight. Because of his red hair. How could he ever have forgotten?

"This one is nothing interesting, Sano," the redhead said softly. "This one is sorry for any misperceptions given."

He could feel Sano's frown. Sanosuke reached for him, and it took all of his self-control not to draw away from those hands. Instead, Sano grabbed Kenshin's arms and hauled him to his feet. Kenshin raised his head and flashed Sano his famous Rurouni smile.

"Such modesty," Sano murmured. Kenshin smiled at the taller man, grabbing and fastening his reverse-blade sword. Modesty, indeed. The memory of the kanji "evil" flashed through his mind. Modesty.

xoxoxox

Again, Sanosuke kept a secure hand on Kenshin's back as they walked out of the house. A part of him lamented the ribbon in Kenshin's hair. Seeing Kenshin smiling at him, his long red hair flowing freely, had set chills up Sano's spine. Truly beautiful.

"We can travel through back alleys to get where we need to go," Sano informed Kenshin. "That sword of yours may offer some protection, but it'll get you into trouble with the police. I don't think you're searching for more trouble."

Kenshin smiled at him, and for the first time, Sano noticed how often the redhead slit his eyes when he smiled. Times like that made Sano wonder how well he could read the other man.

_Not that it matters_, he reminded himself. _A rurouni won't be around long_. Kenshin's warmth radiated through the thin fabric against Sano's hand, and he momentarily closed his eyes. _But maybe he wouldn't mind resting in Tokyo for a bit_.

"Sano?" Kenshin inquired, and Sano opened his eyes to meet soft violet. "Are you all right?" The gentle query lured in Sano. He released Kenshin's hand to toss a careless arm over Kenshin's shoulders. Kenshin blinked at him.

"Fine," he assured the slender man. He winked at Kenshin. "Just thinking about breakfast." At that time of day, more people were in the streets and their homes than in the alleys, and Sano felt secure enough to focus more attention on Kenshin and less on possible assailants. "Have you been to the Beef-Pot yet?"

Kenshin shrugged, though not enough to dislodge Sano's arm. "This one has passed it," he admitted. "That is all."

Kenshin's soft hair tickled Sano's arm. He had dreamed of Kenshin's hair last night. Hell, he had practically felt it in his hands. If only Kenshin didn't look so delicate, he would have already coaxed the slender beauty to do more than share his futon.

"You'll like it," Sano said. "I'll buy. Then we can go back to the house if you want."

There was the slightest hesitation in Kenshin's step. "This one should be moving on soon," he murmured.

Sano tightened his grip on the redhead's shoulders. "Of course, of course," he said quickly. He spotted some cops out of the corner of his eye and hurried Kenshin—and his sword—onwards. "But you should at least check this area out first before you move on. What's the point of being a wanderer if you don't get to see the sights?"

He grinned cheekily at Kenshin, trying not to wonder why the redhead had bowed his head a little at his last question. He wasn't getting attached. He was showing an admittedly pretty wanderer the sights, that was all. Yep. That was it.

Sano gave the redhead a small shake and urged him towards the small restaurant. And if he just happened to treat the pretty wanderer to breakfast, well, he was just being nice.

xoxoxox

"You didn't pay," Kenshin noted, glancing between Sano and the restaurant from which Sano was dragging him away. "You didn't pay, Sanosuke-sir!"

"Sano," Sano corrected cheerfully, sliding his hand away from Kenshin's elbow to the man's slim shoulder. "Didn't I tell you they had wonderful food?"

Kenshin's violet eyes were wide. "But you didn't pay! You just walked out!"

Sano chuckled and changed the subject. "There's a nice young lady I want you to meet. I helped her out with a problem she was having, and she lets me hang out at her place sometimes. I think you'll like her. She's a feisty little miss, I'll give her that."

The redhead glanced between the brunet and the restaurant before surrendering with a soft sigh. Sano hid a grin at Kenshin's resignation and continued chattering about Kaoru. He was just happy that Kenshin had waited until they had exited the place before complaining. He should have thought about it before they entered the place, but hey, how was he supposed to know Kenshin would complain about a free meal? It wasn't Sano's fault that he wanted a free meal, too.

And dammit, what was with all the police? Breaking off his monologue to curse, Sanosuke swung Kenshin around so his larger body hid the redhead's sword from the police. Was it because of that Battousai-wannabe? Damned idiot, making things harder for everybody else.

A small hand touched Sano's arm. He turned to meet Kenshin's smile. "We can walk down the alleys again," he offered. "This one doubts the police will be able to see this one's sword there." Sano gaped a little as the redhead winked at him. "This one is used to it, that this one is."

Why, that little. . . . Sano barked a laugh and slung his arm back over Kenshin's shoulders. "I knew there was a reason I liked you! C'mon, let's check out the little missy's. Even she can't mess up a glass of water."

The alley Sano had led them into was narrower than most, and Kenshin pressed against Sanosuke's side. "What do you mean?" he inquired, his voice pleasant even with its confusion.

Before Sano could explain about the dinner incident, a shadowed figure stepped into the alley, blocking their path. Instinctively, Sanosuke shoved Kenshin behind him.

"Are you Sagara Sanosuke?" a deep voice murmured. Sanosuke eyed the stranger, feeling Kenshin standing behind his left shoulder. A quick glance revealed mild violet eyes. "I'd like to buy a fight from you."

"Buy. . . ?" Kenshin asked softly. Sanosuke made a shushing gesture.

_Not exactly how I wanted Kenshin to find out about this. Kenshin's keeping me plenty entertained, so I don't need the fight for that._ Sano smiled grimly. _But who am I to say no to a challenge?_ He studied the man in front of him for a moment. Blond hair shimmered under the stranger's cloak. _Especially a foreigner's?_

"Sure," Sano agreed easily. He cracked his knuckles and flashed his teeth. "I'll charge you afterwards."

One small, surprisingly calloused hand touched Sano's elbow. "Oro?" Kenshin tentatively chirped. "Ah . . . but why do you want to fight Sano, stranger-sir? It does not seem to be your idea, that it does not."

Sano stiffened. His dark eyes focused on the cloaked figure in front of them. Occasionally, people did challenge the legendary Zanza of east Tokyo, but rarely did it happen like this, not to mention from a foreigner's mouth. And the timing. . . .

As if hearing Sanosuke's thoughts, the stranger nodded. "Win and I'll tell you."

Sano had no time to respond. "But weren't you sent by the fake Battousai?" Kenshin inquired innocently. "Seems right, that it does."

Both Sano and the stranger stared at the small swordsman. Kenshin blinked innocuously back. Then the stranger's gaze dropped to the sword at Kenshin's side.

"After I fight Sagara," the foreigner offered, "I'll fight you."

Immediately, Sano shoved Kenshin behind him again, ignoring the redhead's yelps. "I'll fight!" he snapped. "Keep him out of it."

"Ororororo. . . ."

In obvious confusion, the stranger looked between the two, then shrugged. "Yeah. I was told to fight you. But I'm still willing to pay for the fight."

"And I'll fight you," Sanosuke retorted. "Just keep him out of it." He raised a fist. "I don't tolerate those who attack those who can't defend themselves."

"Ororo—"

"Knock that off!"

Kenshin submissively raised his hands and took a step away. With a nod of satisfaction, Sanosuke focused on the man before him. The alley was narrow, lowering his maneuverability, but he accepted that. It lowered the foreigner's maneuverability, too.

"I'll charge you depending on how much I enjoy this," Sano tossed out.

With a quick nod from the stranger, the fight began.

xoxoxox

Kenshin hated leaving Sano to deal with that man alone, but he had faith in the younger man's abilities. His ki was stronger than Kenshin had felt in years . . . and was far purer than the ki he was sensing now.

_A fighter-for-hire. A fake Battousai. And now a rigged fight. This keeps getting odder and odder, that it does._

With a silent sigh, Kenshin slipped away from the fighters and darted out of the alley. He could feel that dark ki, slimy and poisonous and directed solely at his new friend. His hand tightened on the grip of sword as he crept through the shadows, easily spotting the source of the ki. The man was clearly an amateur, oblivious to Kenshin's presence and barely attempting to hide the gun in his hand. His perch was decent, crouched on a low, nearby roof, but that was all the stocky man had going for him. Kenshin narrowed cool eyes and leaped onto the rooftop. The man never blinked, all of his attention focused on the fight in the alley. Kenshin, too, took a moment to observe the fight. The foreigner was good, but his tactics didn't work on Sanosuke. The tall brunet barely flinched over each hit, driving his own strikes forward.

_Not bad, Sano_, Kenshin thought, turning back to the stocky man. _But not good enough, either_.

With another sigh, Kenshin glided behind the man. The man didn't know he was there until the tip of the redhead's sword rested against his back. "It would not be wise to move," Kenshin softly informed the frozen man. "And a gun does not belong in a physical fight."

The man shivered. "I'll shoot," he threatened, but his voice was shaky and weak. Kenshin stared steadily at him.

"You won't have time." The steel pressed a little harder. "Now, please, drop the gun."

The clang of steel on the roof synchronized with the tinkle of the man's urine. Kenshin wrinkled his nose. Of course the man who would arrange such a scenario would be the worst kind of coward. Still. . . . Delicately, Kenshin stepped back, keeping his sword pressed against the man's back. "I am protecting Sagara Sanosuke," he continued quietly. "Please remember that the next time you wish to attempt such a stunt."

Kenshin silently returned to the shadows, leaving the man trembling in his own wastes behind him.

xoxoxox

Sanosuke's fist again darted under the other man's guard and slammed into the foreigner's ribs. The blond grunted and staggered backwards. One of the man's muscular legs was already limp due to a blow to his thigh

On the other hand, Sano wasn't even winded. _Still no challenge. Is there no challenge left in Tokyo? It's getting boring!_

The stranger straightened weakly, his fists out in front of him again. "Your swordsman's gone," he wheezed. "Must've run off."

Sanosuke's step faltered a little, but his jab was as sure as ever. The stranger stumbled, and Sano slammed his left fist into the man's gut. With a breathless cough, the fighter collapsed.

"Cheap tactic," Sanosuke snapped, refusing to look behind him. The bastard was just trying to make him worry, distract him from the fight. It certainly hadn't helped him at all.

"Not very nice at all," Kenshin agreed, stepping beside Sanosuke. The brunet sneaked a peek at him. The smaller man's face was as demure as ever.

The man coughed again, his dark eyes wide and bewildered. "But—"

"You were going to say who set you up to this, that you were," Kenshin interrupted helpfully. Sano eyed him for a moment. The redhead smiled sweetly.

_Spunky twerp_, Sano thought, turning back to the stranger. The foreigner was openly gaping at Kenshin. Sanosuke bristled, strangely irritated. "Well? What do you got to say?"

Swallowing, the foreigner spoke, "The fake Battousai's older brother . . . he gave me the money and told me to buy a fight from you. Told me he'd give me the rest of the money after I killed you."

With a huff, Sano pulled back. "Forgot that dirty bastard of a brother," he grumbled. Kenshin raised an eyebrow but didn't ask. The brunet grinned fiercely at Kenshin. "Oh, well. I'll find him later."

The man groaned, beginning to pick himself up. One glare from Sanosuke kept him down. "I don't know where he is. He keeps moving from place to place."

Kenshin hummed absently. "I'm sure that he will get his just desserts, that he will."

Sano stared at him. Disbelievingly, he laughed. "You're really somethin', you know that?" he chuckled, grabbing Kenshin with a quick headlock. He shook the mewling redhead once and released him. "Now we just go to take care of this guy."

The fighter tensed as Sanosuke leered at him. "What are you going to do?"

xoxoxox

_This situation certainly gets more interesting by the moment._

Kenshin sighed inwardly, feeling Sanosuke's hand resting protectively on his back. The fighter had no idea that the stranger he fought had been no more than a distraction. He walked confidently now, secure in his own protection and his ability to protect his companion. He had no idea that all the while back there, a gun had been pointed at his back.

_There is no guarantee that this man won't try other tactics_. Kenshin glanced beneath his bangs at the tall fighter. _A fighter for hire with "evil" on his back . . . but a good man nonetheless. An honest man unsuspecting of a gun at his back when there's a fight in front of him. I cannot leave him like this._

Sano stopped, drawing Kenshin's attention back to him. "You're all right, right?" the brunet asked. "You know I'll protect you, right?"

Kenshin smiled gently at him. "Of course. You don't mind me staying during this, do you?"

Even as Sanosuke fervently reassured him, the swordsman held himself steady. _I'll protect you_.


	6. Chapter V: Deadly Promises

Title: Different Lives  
Disclaimer: You see how the series would have gone if I wrote it.  
A/N: This fic is manga-based, so if you see some unexpected characters, that's why.

Ch. V: Deadly Promises

As they distanced themselves from the heart of the city, the police sightings lessened; however, their numbers were still enough to disturb Kenshin. Sano kept the ever-steady hand on the small of his back as they walked, and Kenshin protectively kept an eye out. At first he had believed there was a connection between the police and the false Battousai, but now he wasn't sure. Their timing and attitudes seemed off. Kenshin frowned inwardly. Apparently, he would have to also keep an ear out.

Sanosuke was still talking, and Kenshin focused harder on him. Sanosuke was warning him about the "little miss's" cooking. Kenshin smirked inwardly at the incongruity of it all. This man was undoubtedly a fighter for hire, one who fought for the pleasure of fighting rather than the money. That was probably the reason he even involved himself with the false Battousai: Sanosuke had probably heard the rumors and wanted to test his skill against the legendary Hitokiri Battousai. Yet here this great fighter was, fiercely warning him about a young woman's _cooking_. After over fifteen minutes of such talk, Kenshin decided Sano had to be exaggerating. Not even his old master was that bad in the kitchen.

Sano's hand lightly smacked Kenshin's back. Startled from his thoughts, Kenshin stared wide-eyed at him. The obvious concern on the fighter's face surprised Kenshin.

"Hey, you're not still worried about the fight, are you?" Sano demanded. Kenshin surreptitiously stepped to the side, and Sanosuke obliviously followed, walking out of an arguing couple's path. "That guy was no problem."

Kenshin smiled at him. Not only was the amount of police lessening, so was the stench of so many bodies packed together. The scent of sweat and body odor had been searing his sensitive nose, even if days of travel kept him from smelling as good as he would like. In fact, Kenshin could smell the clean scent associated with water, helping him to relax a little. It had nothing to do with Sanosuke's arm wrapped protectively around his waist.

"This one is simply worried about the cooking you speak of," the redhead murmured, looking back at the path. "Sounds frightening, that it does."

Sanosuke's arm relaxed around him as the tall brunet chuckled. "Eh, the little miss is nice. I think you'll like her. Maybe she can teach you how to use that sword of yours."

Sanosuke increased the pressure of his hand on Kenshin's back as they walked onto the bridge, as if the redhead needed extra guidance. Forcing himself not to stiffen, Kenshin found himself relaxing into the large hand. He breathed in deeply, letting the scent of the river wash away the sudden scent of blood. "Perhaps," Kenshin allowed.

Sanosuke laughed again, but Kenshin's senses were abruptly focused on the sound of running feet behind him. He doubted it was dangerous, but it was disconcerting to feel such intent focus directed at them.

No. At him.

The small body slammed against Kenshin's back, and Kenshin allowed himself to flow forward, twisting his face into an expression of surprise. Everything happened in a split-second but Kenshin clearly felt when the small hand grabbed his wallet.

Even the pickpockets in this city were amateurs.

The thief—no more than a boy, Kenshin noted without surprise—barely managed two steps before Sano snatched a handful of brown hair. The boy yelped. Sanosuke dragged him back.

"A damned pickpocket," Sano grumbled, grabbing Kenshin's wallet out of one small, flailing hand. The boy glared at Sano, and Kenshin stared into the boy's fierce dark eyes. Such old, proud eyes. How long has this one been on the streets? Why would a being with such proud eyes stoop to stealing from others? "You really have to be more alert, Kenshin."

"Don't talk about me that way, rooster!" the boy howled, clawing at Sano's hand. Sano grimaced and released the boy, and the thief clamored backwards. Looking at the boy's own wild mop, Kenshin concealed a smile of amusement. Not one to talk, really.

"I should be," Kenshin agreed, taking his wallet back. Ignoring Sano's squawk, Kenshin offered the wallet back to the boy. "Since you were able to steal it because of this one's lack of attention, I believe this is yours now."

It didn't surprise Kenshin much when the boy angrily smacked his hand. "I don't need your pity!" the boy snarled. The child's furious eyes enchanted Kenshin. Over ten years ago, he had often seen eyes like that. "I'm Myojin Yahiko—Tokyo samurai! I haven't fallen far enough to be pitied by strangers! I was just _testing_ you because you had a sword! Don't get the wrong idea!"

Kenshin submissively raised his hands as Sano bristled beside him. "Young one—" Kenshin began soothingly, happy that they were the only ones on this bridge. They did not need an audience for this.

"I'm not a young one!" Yahiko howled.

Kenshin smiled in the face of Yahiko's fangs. "You look like a child," he agreed, "but it's obvious that your soul is mature. Sorry. This one did not mean to underestimate you."

Yahiko's obvious rage faltered, but the confused resentment didn't fade from his dark eyes. Huffing to himself, Yahiko turned his back to the two men and stalked away. Kenshin lightly leaned against Sanosuke, keeping him from following.

"It's amazing you kept your wallet this long, acting like that," Sano said, but Kenshin could see the grudging respect in his brown eyes. That respect pleased Kenshin in a way he did not wish to acknowledge.

"Perhaps," Kenshin murmured, and Sanosuke returned his hand to the small of Kenshin's back. Kenshin was beginning to get used to the invasion of his space.

Kenshin allowed Sanosuke to guide him off the bridge. He also didn't acknowledge himself leaning into Sano's hand.

_In another world_, Kenshin reflected, _that boy would have been a great samurai._ Sanosuke had resumed talking, and Kenshin let that rough voice lull him. _In another world, this young man would not need that kanji on his back_.

To Kenshin's discomfort, they arrived at the infamous Kamiya Kaoru's dojo around lunchtime. He had hoped that would not be the case—or at least, his stolen breakfast from earlier would tide him over—but all the excitement earlier had given him a healthy appetite.

He idly wondered if he could offer to make a meal as Sano led him up the walk.

"Little miss!" Sanosuke shouted. "Hey, you around?"

In the distance, Kenshin could hear low chanting and a patterned pounding. So the incident with the false Battousai hadn't ruined the dojo's business after all. That was good. Kenshin lightly touched Sano's arm and was figuring out a good way to tell him she was probably busy when a high voice shouted, "In a second!"

One of the dojo's screen doors slid open, and Kenshin blinked as wide, brilliant eyes met his own. Something warmed in him at the sight of those innocent, strong eyes. Every now and then Kenshin met someone like this, someone who could blossom in the peaceful Meiji Era, someone who was not stained by the war or by the brutality of the Bakumatsu Era. He felt in his heart that this girl was one of those people, and he offered her a rare, real smile. The lovely girl instantly returned it, bright and radiant, but Kenshin did not miss how her eyes flitted down to his hands.

Sanosuke had apparently been talking about Kenshin, too.

"Hey, little miss!" Sano called, dragging Kenshin forward. "You busy or somethin'?"

Kaoru snorted, and Kenshin hid an amused smile behind his usual rurouni expression. Things had just become more interesting.

"I run a dojo, of course I'm busy!" she retorted. She glanced behind her, and through the opening, Kenshin could see a little less than a dozen young men standing with wooden swords in their hand. Each stood still and composed, and Kenshin nodded approvingly to himself. She had done well in teaching them discipline. "But it's almost time for lunch, so we're about to take a break. Why don't you two wait inside and I'll make us lunch soon?"

Kenshin could feel Sano's shiver through the hand on his back. "We aren't planning on being here long," Sano said hastily. "Just wanted to introduce you two. Kenshin, Kaoru; Kaoru, Kenshin."

Kaoru's gaze swept over Kenshin, and he could feel her analyzing him. What had Sanosuke told her? Judging by Kaoru's initial look, Kenshin would have to be more careful of his habits around Sano. However, he could sense this one's innocence: Kamiya Kaoru was pure, untouched. What did she know that she expected to see in him?

"Hello, Kenshin," she greeted cheerfully. Kenshin bowed in response.

"Hello, Miss Kaoru," Kenshin replied humbly, still bowing. Behind Kaoru, the students remained still, waiting for their sensei's return.

"Don't mind him, little miss." Sano's boisterous voice was just a little louder than Kaoru's. Kenshin idly wondered how he found such loud people. "He's a little shy. You get used to it." Kenshin stumbled a little as Sano pounded his back. "He's only in town for a little bit, though, so I'm going to show him the sights."

_As far away from Miss Kaoru's meals as possible_, Kenshin predicted, hiding his smile again. He couldn't remember the last time he felt the need to smile so often.

Kaoru frowned but nodded in acquiesce. "All right," she agreed. Then her face lit up. "But I'm expecting you two here for dinner! I would love to talk with you, Kenshin!"

As Sanosuke stiffened beside him, Kenshin's urge to smile vanished.


	7. Chapter VI: Comes In Threes

Title: Different Lives  
Pairing: SanoKen  
Warnings: Spoilers, AU  
Rating: T

Chapter VI: Comes in Threes

"Where's the fire?"

The question was casual—Sanosuke was even chuckling as he asked it—but Kenshin's answering smile didn't reach his eyes.

Police littered the streets. Kenshin watched as they occasionally pulled people aside and questioned them. He knew he heard the word 'Battousai' mentioned. Worse yet, he saw _armed_ police walk the streets, eyes cold and hard, _real_ swords at their sides. The rumors of Battousai had obviously lured them here, but why were the sword corps here? Surely by now they had learned that the Battousai was a fake?

What else were they looking for?

Sanosuke's hard grip on his shoulder startled Kenshin from his thoughts. "What's wrong?" the brunet inquired quietly. Kenshin blinked. When had the younger man stopped smiling? Had he been so lost in thought?

Kenshin flashed a bright smile at him, one violet eye on a policeman walking close by. "This one was wondering about that boy from earlier," he replied. Not a true lie: he _had_ been wondering. It just wasn't his primary thought. "This one hopes he is all right."

Such proud eyes . . . they made something within him ache.

Sanosuke's step faltered. One hand firm on Kenshin's shoulder, Sanosuke glanced around the street. "All these cops must make the thieving slim," the tall brunet observed. "He's probably ducking low somewhere."

Kenshin made a low sound of agreement, even as his mind wandered. Perhaps the boy was. For some reason, Kenshin doubted it.

Sanosuke's hand tightened on Kenshin's shoulder again. When Kenshin looked at him, the young man was looking around the street again. "I have a couple things to do this afternoon," Sanosuke commented casually. "While I'm out, I'll keep an eye out for him. Shouldn't be too hard to pick up something."

Kenshin's smile finally reached his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, almost too softly to be heard. He thought he knew what those 'couple things' were, but in this case, it was truly the thought that counted. And if Kenshin did his own 'couple things' in the meantime, well, none needed to be the wiser. Kenshin met Sanosuke's eyes, his smile warm. Sanosuke didn't say anything, only tightened his grip on Kenshin's shoulder.

"C'mon," Sanosuke said abruptly as another policeman walked past them. "Let's get you back to my place. The last thing you need right now is one of those guys seeing your sword."

Ducking his head so Sanosuke wouldn't see the amusement in his eyes, Kenshin hummed his agreement. He wouldn't mind a moment to himself to think: the mysterious boy, the odd gathering of police, the assassination attempt on Sanosuke, and of course, the strangely familiar kanji on Sanosuke's back.

And he thought his time here would be boring.

Allowing a small smile to escape at the thought, Kenshin raised his head again and looked around. Sanosuke's hand slid back down to the small of Kenshin's back, but the young man remained silent as he led Kenshin away from the busy street. It took the redhead a moment to realize that Sanosuke was taking them along the water, away from the police. The route to Sanosuke's home was longer this way; was Sanosuke truly so disturbed at the idea of the police seeing Kenshin's blade?

Sanosuke's hand warm on his back, the young man's side hard and reassuring against his, Kenshin couldn't find it within himself to care.

Smiling—when was the last time he had smiled so much, so genuinely?—Kenshin trailed his eyes along the edge of the water. Ignoring the police, this area truly was nice. He wouldn't mind—

Kenshin's eyes narrowed. Even from a distance, he recognized that form.

"Sanosuke sir," he inquired mildly, "isn't that the boy from earlier?"

His hand itched. If needed, he could. If needed . . .

Sanosuke's eyes snapped up from wherever they had been staring. "Yeah," he murmured grimly. "And that looks like Tanishi's gangsters to me."

Kenshin's sakabatou was in easy reach. "And the sword corps," he added softly.

Young Myojin Yahiko was sprawled on the ground between the large four men. Kenshin could smell the child's blood in the air, but to his relief, Yahiko's fighting spirit still pulsed strongly around him. However, the rest of the scene was less than reassuring. Kenshin's eyes glittered, noting how the sword corps and the gangsters were laughing together, careless of the broken body at their feet. The itch in his hand grew when he saw a gangster hand one of the sword corps something, which the policeman idly placed in his pocket.

Some things remained the same, no matter the era.

"Taking bribes," Sanosuke growled beside him. Kenshin glanced at his companion, watching him crack his knuckles. "Crooked pieces of shit!"

A hard light blazed in Sanosuke's dark eyes. Kenshin hesitated, his hand falling from his sakabatou. "Sanosuke sir—"

Sanosuke placed a hand against Kenshin's chest. "Stay back," he ordered. "I'll take care of this."

_This one knows that_, Kenshin wanted to say, _but who will take care of you?_

But that wasn't his place. Instead, Kenshin nodded and watched Sanosuke stalk towards the group. He casually shifted his feet; in case of trouble, at least he knew he would be able to _move_.

The small group quieted at Sanosuke's approach. From this angle, Kenshin could not see his companion's face, but he knew regardless that the young man's face would be a mimicry of negligence. Any true warrior would be able to read the contrast in Sanosuke's fighter spirit and would be prepared, but Kenshin doubted any of the group would be able to tell the difference. One of the gangsters pointed and laughed at Sanosuke, who raised a single balled fist. Challenging them to a fight, perhaps? Judging by the sudden laughter, Kenshin thought so.

Kenshin reminded himself of Sanosuke's strength, Sanosuke's grace, and forced himself to remain still. If worse came to worse, he knew he could move quickly enough.

Watching Sanosuke move closer, Yahiko struggled to rise. "Get out of here!" the boy shouted. "They're—"

The boy got one knee up before an officer calmly kicked it out from under him. Kenshin tensed. "You heard the boy!" the man called. "Leave!" He smirked, and Kenshin's eyes narrowed. "This is official police business."

Another wave of laughter and Kenshin's fingers _itched_. Something burned inside his gut. All of them _laughing_, a broken child at their feet, that child's blood _on their hands_, and Kenshin _knew_ that he could stop them, he _knew_—

"Last warning," Sanosuke's voice reached Kenshin's ears, stopping the swordsman. For some reason, the dark undertone in the youth's voice soothed him. "Or this fight's for free."

One man, still laughing, stepped forward and raised his sword. Kenshin calmly fingered his sakabatou, but he realized a second later that he needn't have bothered. The man's sword flew in the air as the man himself clutched his bleeding nose, a strangled scream escaping his throat. A second later and the man's screams had been silenced. Unimpressed, Sanosuke stood over the policeman's unconscious body.

"Is that all you got?" Sanosuke asked scornfully.

One member of the sword corps left and he quickly yanked out his sword, dark eyes blazing. The gangsters, on the other hand, stepped away from Yahiko, pale and sweaty.

"Zanza," one whispered.

"Zanza," the other breathed, backing away.

Kenshin's gaze snapped to Sanosuke; the fighter's expression remained unchanged. Zanza . . . Zanza . .. The redhead hummed thoughtfully to himself.

"Cowards," Sanosuke growled, turning to the policeman. Fear had finally entered the man's eyes, and he desperately gripped his sword.

"Do you know who you're messing with?" the man spat, but Kenshin saw his foot edge backward. "I am a member of the sword corps! You'll be hunted down like a _dog_ after this!"

Sanosuke snorted. "Can't take me on by yourself, you little shit?" The man flinched, and Kenshin sighed inwardly at the fire in the man's eyes: not spirit but the anger of a spited bully. "Get out of here. I don't want to see your face around here anymore."

The man snarled but one step from Sanosuke helped him on his way. He shouted threats over his shoulder as he ran, but Sanosuke didn't even seem to hear him. He glanced once behind him at Kenshin and then walked over to the fallen boy.

"Hey, you okay, brat?" Sanosuke asked, offering a hand.

Blinking back humiliated tears, Yahiko slapped his hand away. "I didn't need your help!" he snapped. "I had everything under control."

As Sanosuke bristled, Kenshin decided now would be a good time to step forward. "We know you didn't," Kenshin offered quietly, kneeling before him. "However, they were impeding our path." He smiled. "And this one believes my friend has a strong dislike for … those people."

Sanosuke's low growl lent strength to Kenshin's words. Still, Yahiko stared suspiciously at the pair. Kenshin didn't move, steadily staring into the boy's eyes. Slowly, slowly, Yahiko relaxed.

"Yeah, whatever," Yahiko grumbled. The boy eased himself to his feet, and Kenshin stood and stepped back. "Just so you know I could have taken them on."

"Of course," Kenshin soothed him, his smile never fading. "Would you like to accompany us?" As the boy's eyes sharpened, Kenshin gestured towards his sakabatou. "This one would like another pair of eyes to watch out for the police. This could get this one into trouble." He smiled apologetically, aware of Sanosuke's disbelieving eyes on him.

Yahiko considered him for a moment and then nodded decisively. "Yeah. I can do that." He jerked a thumb towards Sanosuke. "You need more protection than _this_ guy."

As Sanosuke sputtered indignantly, Kenshin blinked in surprise. Well. That was unexpected.

And thus Myojin Yahiko joined their group.


End file.
